


Encore

by Anonymous



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hannibal gives Bedelia something she's never had before.





	Encore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotPersephone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/gifts).



> Notpersephone requested Hannibal giving Bedelia multiple orgasms- I was happy to oblige!

“What do you like?”

His question blossoms like a heavy headed rose in the hothouse air of their bedroom. His very breath drips with passion and she feels herself consumed by a moist jungle heat that starts between her thighs and swells through the very tips of her fingers and toes.

Is it always like this, the first time? The sweet heat, the catching fire. Bedelia thinks not, yet she remains reluctant to give in, to let her baser instincts draw her down to their depths.

“What do you think I like?” she counters, the game still afoot between them, even here.

Her question elicits the tiniest droop around the edges of Hannibal’s confident mouth, but he says nothing. Had he expected more from her? To feel her melt in his arms at last, to let him _see_ her. He should know better.

His only reply is to stroke the edge of her neck with his forefinger while his left hand deftly unzips her dress. Hands, lips, and fingers move to disrobe her, sure in their touch. It makes her wet.

Her hands move, too, in quiet counterpoint, slipping between tailored shirt and muscled shoulder, fingertips tracing the rippling hardness of his chest. At last her body is free to explore, to caress and stroke all those places she had only ever before touched with her mind. It is a heady feeling, for both of them she thinks. A giddy thrill of anticipation shoots through her as he touches her bare stomach. She holds in a peel of nervous laughter; it flutters in her lungs like confetti, some long-lost remnant of a younger, more carefree Bedelia, alone with a lover for the first time.

Hannibal seems to sense her thoughts—perhaps they have blurred enough to be his own—and he smiles, a light coming into his eyes that makes him look decades younger. He tips her back onto their bed, the feather mattress buoying them up like a soft cloud. And then his body is everywhere at once—smooth and warm, slick and firm. His mouth finds his way to her nipples and he sucks long and hard, lavishing each with an attention so thorough it is almost unbearable. She moans aloud, hips thrusting toward him out of pure animal instinct.

 He gazes down at her with predatory hunger as two thick fingers begin to tease her core, not even bothering to draw aside her underwear. It’s raw and a little bit dirty—and in that moment she’s never wanted anything more.

“I think,” he says, pausing to nuzzle along the sensitive skin of her neck. “I think you wish for a lover who does not have to ask. Who knows…and does…without asking.”

His words leave her breathless. She’d never been so completely seen this way before. Because yes, she could command him, instruct him in all the ways her body liked to receive pleasure, as she had done for so many others. But she’d really rather not. “Yes,” she tells him, drawing him down for a deep kiss.

He bows his head to her, almost subserviently, and delivers kiss after kiss, each more scorching than the last. She feels his hardness against her bare thigh and suddenly after waiting years for this she cannot bear to wait one second longer. In a matter of moments his dress pants and shorts have joined her dress and undergarments in a tangled pool of wool and silk on the floor.

Glimmer of mischief in his eye, he climbs off the bed and with both hands draws her hips down to the edge before thrusting in. It’s not her usual choice of position, but before she can object, he is filling her so smoothly, so completely. With the second fluid thrust, he has her seeing stars, gripping the edges of the silk bedsheets and arching up for more. He rocks into her, angling his thrusts with the most perfect and erotic geometry she has ever known. Moans and sighs tumble from her lips without inhibition, without warning. Her pleasure narrows to a fine point before exploding outward—and for a moment she is weightless, senseless. There is no Florence, no apartment, no cat and mouse game. Just a man and a woman, joined together in the dark.

She comes back to herself to find Hannibal still hard and thrusting inside of her. Sweat gleams over his hardened muscles. She reaches up behind his neck to pull him closer. To her surprise, her pleasure starts to build again. His thumb finds her clitoris, eager to speed her along. It doesn’t happen like this for her, it never has. But Hannibal’s touch is so sure, so precise and before she registers what is happening he has pushed her over the edge a second time.

Bedelia adjourns to the bath while Hannibal lounges in their bed, content as a cat soaking up the warmth of a sunbeam. Swathed in her silk dressing gown, she still feels naked. Her legs feel unsteady as newborn foal and she must fight her trembling hands into steady submission.

Could he tell? Did he know? No man had ever done this for her. And she so longs for him to do it again and again.

Her body still feels warm from where his skin had touched her—his heat beckons from the other room like a siren song. Moonlit feet carry her back of their own accord to the oasis of their bed. He smiles at her adoringly and whatever veil of composure she had hoped to maintain is rent at the seams. His fingers toy with a golden curl while his lips whisper _tendresses_ in her ear. He is flush and hard against her and it sparks something gold and molten inside her veins.

“Do you want to?” she hints, lips brushing his.

“Already? Again?” His smile grows big and wide.

Bedelia tries to summon her icy composure and fails—it all comes out melted. “If you’d rather sleep…”

“Not a chance, _cara mia_. I can understand why you would like to make up for lost time.”

“Not just me,” she says, feeling the heat of a blush in her cheeks.

Hannibal holds her in his dark gaze. He knows…and knows better than to show he knows. His eyes go soft and sad again. “Not just you,” he says, tender to the last.


End file.
